I originally intended to put all these pieces in a flowing order, but I just don’t have the energy to do things like that anymore. I also thought that I might be able to find somebody besides myself that might be interested in presenting it. but that didn’t happen, so here are some random pieces....
 
 

Nun, No Rings

I think I’m dying in her arms. She’s so beautiful against the bright white sky even though I can’t focus my eyes. I’m coughing & I can’t even feel my body shake as I do it. I’m telling her that I love her & she’s saying, "No, no, don’t say that." My mouth’s coating over like I’m going to sleep. I’m taking off my ring that is cheap & worthless & have worn every day for ten years (it’s the only jewelry I wear) & I want to put it on her finger. She’s saying, "No, Brian, I can’t wear it." I open my eyes & really see her for the first time. She’s a girl I had a crush on when I was nineteen , but she’s wearing a black habit without her head covered. I’m still trying to put the ring on her finger & she bends her head down & kisses my forehead. Her hair drapes over my eyes & she’s whispering in my ear, "I can’t wear it, I’ll keep it forever though." She pulls back upright again & she’s squeezing my right hand with her left over my chest; I can see it, but I can’t feel it. My feet feel like they’re turning into a pool of cold water.
 
 

hide

There’s someone in bed with me & they’re kicking me in the back. I’m not sure who it is or if they’re conscious, so I don’t know if I should be rude enough to say anything. I take my pillow & put it on my back & the kicks don’t hurt (they were never really hard enough to), but they’re still annoying. It’s only a twin bed & I’m on the wall side so I don’t really have any place to escape to. I’m cramming myself against the wall & my left leg slides between the mattress & the wall & my foot’s on the hardwood floor & it feels dirty & disgusting like it hasn’t been cleaned for ten years. She’s still kicking me & I wiggle myself along the wall & slide under the bed. There’re pieces of dirt big enough I can feel under me & I feel like I’m going to suffocate in the dust. It’s pretty black & I hope I’m just seeing things, but there might be a two inch spider on my left shoulder. I want to freak out, but I’m still not sure who’s on the bed & if I want to attract their attention; so I just lie still & try to go to sleep.
 
 

Bathed

    I’m visiting the town I used to go to college in (I dropped out a couple years ago). It’s the last time I’ll probably ever see most of the people here. I’m staying at my friend Mike’s house (an actual house; it’s rental, so it’s run down & looks like it should be condemned). I’ve been here nine days & I’ve been intoxicated (usually so much I feel happy) the whole time. I’m fucked up right now from this morning’s drinking (it’s noon now) & two hits of acid. I’m with this girl who I’ve never been sure if I should call my friend because I don’t know her very well. She’s cool. Her name is Lukshmie. She has a nose ring, but it doesn’t look stupid on her like on most people who are trying to be hip. In fact, if she takes it out she doesn’t look quite right. It might be her dark skin. The phone’s ringing & I find it & it’s an old black rotary dial. I pick it up & say, "Hello."
    "Hello." It’s this girl I’m enamored by & want to date. I left a message for her three days ago & didn’t think I’d get a response anymore. Really I gave up on a response a year & a half ago when she stopped responding to my letters.
    "Hae, Julie. I guess you got the message I was in town."
    "Uh-huh."
    "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to do something with me sometime?"
    "Sure."
    Lukshmie is staring at me & covering her mouth to hold in laughter. I’m kind of famous for not liking girls & I know my social skills towards dating are horrible. "When?"
    "I don’t know, how ‘bout around two o’clock."
    "That’d be great."
    "I can pick you up there."
    "See you then."
    "Bye bye."
    "Bye."
    Lukshmie’s getting up & saying, "I’ve got to go to class."
    "I need you to do me a big favor. It’s not hard or difficult, but important to me."
    "What?"
    "Tell me when it’s one-thirty so I can try to clean myself up."
    "Does somebody got a date?"
    "Shut up."
    "I’ve never heard of you going out with a girl before. Is this one that special?"
    "No. She’s not special, I’m just enamored by her. I mean, she is special, but probably only to me."
    "Okay. I’ll come back by as soon as I get out of class."
    "Thank you." She’s gone & I’m alone & I think I smell really bad. I didn’t shower yesterday & I’m not sure I did the day before & I’ve been wearing the same clothes the whole time & I haven’t taken off my shoes & I feel like I can’t because I know the smell will be terrible. I get up & go outside & it is very bright. I feel this pain & I look down & my pants are soaking wet at the crotch & some liquid is shooting in pulses from several different spots in the area. I’m not sure what it is & I don’t want to be. It hurts kind of bad & I just want it to stop. I lay face down on the deck & the pressure against my crotch lessens the pain a little, but it still hurts enough I feel I could go into seizures. I’m just lying whimpering quietly & I can’t even tell if time’s passing.
    "Brian, I’ve been looking all over for you. You wouldn’t answer when I called for you." It’s Lukshmie. Her feet are in leather sandals & the right one’s four inches from my face.
    "Help me," I’m whispering & I’m not sure she hears when she takes my left hand & pulls me up.
    "What the fuck happened to you?" She’s wearing this really cool striped dress with stars that’s in three shades of blue. I’d think she was a hippie if she wasn’t so cool.
    I feel like I’m going to die & she completely takes charge of the situation. She walks me to the bathroom & sits me down with my head resting on the rim of the toilet & turns on the shower. "How the hell did you get this fucked up?" she’s asking.
    I’m still just saying weakly, "Help me." I probably haven’t stopped saying it.
    She’s pulling off my shoes & socks & she seems a little repulsed by the smell & she puts them on the shower stall floor. She takes off the rest of my clothes & puts them in the shower too & the she puts me in. I can’t even sit up straight & my head & left shoulder are leaning in a corner.
    She kicks her sandals off & gets in & takes the soap & starts washing me. I feel like I should be embarrassed, but I already am passed that point. I’m muttering, "Thank you," at her. I look down & there’s blood going down the drain & I know it must be mine, but I’m not even sure what part of me it’s coming out of. I don’t hurt quite as bad anymore.
    The doorbell rings & Lukshmie props me in the corner better & turns down the water pressure & steps out soaking wet & leaves the bathroom. I’m staring at the black & white tiles & they seem to be moving & I’m seeing faces in them.
    Lukshmie comes back & she’s stooped down in the stall face to face with me & is saying, "Brian, listen." She puts her hands on my shoulders & shakes me a little. "Listen, Brian. That’s Julie. She’s in the living room right now, what do you want to do?"
 
 

Frizzy Hair, Big Black Eyes

She’s flirting with me because she has nothing better to do & no one better to do it with (or maybe worse for that matter). There’s nothing wrong with her & if I was a year younger (though I’m only a year older than her) I would be enamored with her. As things are, I’m just flattered & feel like she’s someone’s little sister who’s cute in that teenaged, young skinned, fatalistic way; but obviously has nothing new to offer me. I don’t have anything better to do either (I’m going through what I hope to be a phase where everything is valueless, so I generally take the path of least resistance), so I’m keeping up my end of the conversation. I tell her the truth relentlessly & for a second I’m afraid I’ll scare her away, but then I remember I’m not supposed to even care. She’s upset that I do drugs & upset that I say "I worship it," about certain ones. She thinks that drugs might be "okay" on occasion, but not as a lifestyle (I feel the opposite; that if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing as often as possible). She thinks it’s escapist & weak & that reality will still exist & one day you have to stop running. I think the day you stop running from reality is the day your soul dies. I end up agreeing to disagree with her, which angers her a little until I tell her I haven’t had a daily or even consistent addiction for two years. The bar & the people in it are really beginning to annoy me & I drank all I feel I can afford to tonight half an hour ago, so I ask her if she wants to go outside & she does, so we do. We go to the left towards a brightly lit building & every place on the way is closed & when we arrive its lights are on, but it’s also closed. We turn around & are looking for someplace to eat (both of us had one meal today), but end up giving up & standing in front of the club. She’s shivering, so I take off my coat & put it over her shoulders. She puts it back on me saying, "It’s cold, you need it," & we push it back & forth for several minutes until I stretch it over both of us (shoulder to shoulder, side by side) pulling her tight against me. She’s very warm & comfortable & when the wind blows I pull her closer & lean my head against hers. The people I assume she came with come out of the bar & start bitching at her in some language I either don’t know or am too tired to understand. One of them hands her a jacket & she shrugs out of mine & away from me & walks away in silence.
 
 

Giraffe

We’ve been hitchhiking for three days now (the point where it’s no longer adventurous & glamorous, but simply what you do & things are only momentarily shocking before they’re forgotten). The truck driver we’re riding with is kicking us out for some reason (probably because I’m sitting in between him & Amy like some kind of barrier). He doesn’t even come to a complete stop & Amy opens the door & jumps out & he shoves me in the back when I start to follow her. I start to fall & I think I’m going to die for a second when my left hand catches on to a piece of the door & swings me back perpendicular to the ground & I land with a clean run & it’s like nothing ever happened. We’re walking down the highway’s gravel shoulder with our book bags on & it’s getting closer to dark which would only leave cops to pick us up. We stop for a second so I can get some Evian out of my bag & Amy gets a Butterfinger out of hers. I’m standing & stretching & Amy’s still bent down eating when this truck-ish thing stops five feet behind us. It has two segments like a truck, but the first one is way too long & looks like a winnebago. There’s a humming noise & the front of it folds down (like something out of a low budget post-apocalyptic sci-fi movie) & we get in. The driver is talking to us as the front re-closes, but I’m not hearing him because I’m too busy taking in the freakish vehicle. There’s a range & oven where the passenger seat should be & a step behind it is a big grouping of shelves with fairly random crap including a bag of sugar, plates, pots & pans, an old doll, some dried flowers, & a huge collection of gum machine toys. I sit down in the little space between the oven & shelves & close my eyes. When I open them, Amy’s gone & the driver’s gone & it feels to me like we’re still moving, but I can’t be sure. I get up & go down the little hallway. I take the first left & the room seems to be the rest of the kitchen & has a blue & white tile floor I can make out from the dim light shining through the window. I go closer to the window & it’s over a steel double sink & I see something in it. At first I think it’s some kind of statue because it’s so malformed & gray & splotchy; but when I touch it, it moves & a glistening black eye opens. I take a step back & bump against the wall whispering, "What the fuck?" I turn on the light & go to look at it & see it’s tied up so I it can’t really move much at all. For a second I think it’s some kind of dog, but then I notice the little horns on its head. I look closer & can tell it’s the contorted body of an emaciated miniature giraffe. I go to find Amy & she’s asleep half on a chair & half on the floor in a room with a big tv that’s turned off, but still glowing. I’m pulling on her left arm whispering, "Amy," into her ear. She gives me a little "let-me-fucking-sleep" push away & I pull her to her feet. She’s waking up & talking, saying, "That guy’s some kind of weirdo. We were watching Gilligan’s Island & he kept yelling at Mary Ann like she was a real person that he really hated." I lead her to the kitchen room (it’s easy to find since it’s the only light on) & show her the thing in the sink. I pick it up & put it on the floor & we’re both bent down over it. She’s saying, "What the hell is this?" leaving her mouth slightly open. She pokes it & it makes this weird "ba-a-ah" noise & water starts to come out of its left eye & it’s spasming trying to move itself. I put it back in the sink & it seems to calm down. "I think we need to get out of here." "Yeah." I click off the light & we go to the front of the RV, but we don’t know how to work its door. We roll down the driver side window & Amy climbs out & I throw her our bags & climb out after her. It’s about 5:30 & the sun will be up soon & if a cop stops us before then I’ll give them a story that we’re with the RV & wanted to get some exercise before the day’s drive.
 
 

carefree

We’re both high & three hours from home & somehow she’s convinced some stranger to let us stay in her house. There are a whole bunch of other people here too & I’m wondering if any of them really know the girl whose house this is. I’m in the living room area & there’s this wooden picnic table with benches that I’m sitting at listening to my brain rev. I look up & there are three different guys talking to my girlfriend, each of them with their skin touching hers. For a second I’m really pissed off & I want to kick all three of their asses & I know I could when I’m this high. Then I think she’s fucking old enough to take care of herself & do whatever she wants to do & it’s her life, not mine & I’m no one to say anything. My back starts to ache & I slouch over on the table waiting to pass out or die. I can’t do either because there are probably twenty people in the room all talking at once & it’s making me feel like I’m supersaturated or that I’ve held my breath too long. My girlfriend takes me by the hand & pulls me up & behind her to a bedroom. We’re lying on a bed with at least two other people & it’s not comfortable & I feel like their bodies will swallow mine. I want to leave, but I feel like it would be rude & irresponsible. Maybe I really am rude & irresponsible & I’ve been lying to myself for years, so I do get up & leave. I leave the room & then the house. It’s dark outside & there aren’t any street lights & I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do.
 
 

swans girl

I’m attracted to her for no apparent reason. Her hair’s dyed orange & she’s shorter than me, so I arbitrarily assume she’s younger than me. She has round black rimmed glasses & oversized pupils. She’s wearing a white long sleeved shirt. She somehow reminds me of myself which is why I’m shocked by the attraction (I hate myself). I want her to take me away to a suburban world where my life is on a regular schedule & we have kids that she stays home with & I barely know. I want her to isolate me from everything I know now & turn me into something more lovable. I want to kneel at her side embracing her waist crying until my knees ache & my eyes are dry. I want her to love me forever. I can’t say a word, but I do start to cry a little.
 
 

mish

I’m not sober & I’ve got that look & air about me where I’m really disgusting. The kind of stuff that would make your mother stop loving you. I’m scared that I wouldn’t look pretty even to a young blue-eyed girl in love. That I’ve already passed the last stage where she says, "He’s not of value anymore. I always thought, ‘He has some problems, but he can change & he’s really great deep down inside where he’s hard to get to know,’ but now I realize he’s just horrible & disgusting. He’s like a piece of snot you can’t clean off of your body unless you put him on someone else’s." It’s kind of depressing, but not enough to turn my life around for. I want to get all the way to the bottom & for someone to reach down & save me, or maybe somebody to find there to save me. Sleeping in my drainage tunnel already when I get home (I’m not going to let myself get to the point where I don’t think sewage is bad). She’ll be there sleeping in the cold water so you can’t tell whether or not she’s been crying. Stretching up & for a moment you can’t be sure if she’s a human or an animal & then for a second you’re not sure if she’s an angel or a demon because in this deluded state it seems like those are the only ones who’d have to hide themselves & live like this. But then I guess she is human & I kind of want to kick her out, but I think she’s small & cute & really doesn’t take up that much room & I start by giving her the best sleeping area, but she keeps coming back every night like my hole is so fucking special. I guess it is, I mean, I like it a lot but it is a fucking hole. It’s a five foot radius concrete pipe & I like the ambiance & noise of it late at night when a car rolls over some part of it & there are these great bass noises so much more fabulous than a washing machine could make when I still lived in a house (it’s funny that living in a house should seem so strange now, but those things are just too expensive emotionally & financially for me right now). It’s a step up from under the bridge too. Living under a bridge is like living in some kind of tomb. They have the iron re-enforcement stuff & you cram your way into this bin about eighteen or twenty inches tall (I know some underbridges are nicer) & just barely long enough for me to fit in (sometimes I’m lucky that I’m short) & there’s concrete above & below you & sometimes the noises are so loud you can’t even tell whether they’re coming from above or below you. It doesn’t seem like it could be that fucking different to actually be run over & it seems like it’s so obvious that people live there & people would find some way to get where they’re going where they don’t have to cross so many bridges, but then I guess that would lead to a shortage of adequate housing. It’s very warm though & there’s not much ventilation. Very dry usually too. Maybe it’s not really a step up from living under a bridge. It’s just a cooler wetter way of living & also it seems a little cooler to the other kids. You could almost have them over to see how you live & you could raise a family or something, but bridges are just for swinging immature twenty year olds who want to be cool or something. So we start sleeping together (not fucking much because its noises might attract our real sub-urban neighbors & we don’t have regular means of bathing & I don’t want to reek for several days because I fucked & I can’t take a bath for two more days) & become a couple & talk about getting married & having kids. Maybe trying to get the city to build us an extra room. But there isn’t really anything I’d exactly call love. Just two burnt out kids who started living together for lack of the city building enough drainage tunnels. Living together so long they can’t function quite right not together because if you start to have really cool stuff you don’t need to be quite as paranoid all the time if someone else can help you guard it. Maybe that’s just a fucking excuse & this little giblet of stuff is what love is or maybe I’m just high.
 
 

shdgr

It’s hot & I can’t stand the heat. I’m lying in bed & I don’t want to move. I don’t want to get up until it rains. My body feels like it’s partially mended itself with the bed & I don’t have the strength to discourage it from doing it more. I’m going to become one with the mattress & be pissed on & fucked on by strangers at night. I’ll absorb their smells until I’m indistinguishable from them. If it rains maybe it would melt the room away & then soothe me into something. Make my body swell to a normal size or maybe explode my cracking shell. Take me to the next stage of my evolution.
 
 

Wet Earth

It’s raining & we won’t be able to touch the wet earth or we’ll die. We’re tired of watching the rain hit the bedroom window. We want to be outside for no particular reason other than that we can’t. The rain’s letting up, so we go downstairs & sit on the porch. We’re lying down on the grey wooden slats. She’s to my left with parts of her body lapping over top of me, but the invasion of my space feels comforting instead of annoying. She’s soft like a pillow & sometimes I think I might actually love her & now is one of those times. I can feel the motion of her breathing (even though I can’t hear it) & it’s very soothing to me. It reminds me of something; I’m not sure what, but it must have been a million years ago. The rain’s stopped & I slide our bodies to the edge of the porch so we’re looking over at a concrete walkway with our heads hanging off the porch. I’m holding on to the ledge & can feel the water trying to enter me through my palms. "I want to save one of them," she says, her chin punching into my shoulder as she speaks. Her left hand is pointed out to the water way & her right hand is on my right shoulder. I’m staring at the waterway & there are two black sugar ants. I’m reaching out from the porch’s safety to point towards an ant, but she slaps my hand saying, "No, you know better than that." She’s right & I don’t know why I tried to do it. "Look at that caterpillar," she says in a cute voice almost as if it’s a puppy. I’m staring at it & it’s light green with black spots & huge shimmery black eyes. He’s crawling slowly & a drop of water hits him & spikes explode out of his black spots & his body swells. I guess this is what’ll happen to me eventually. I’m scared.
 
 

4 hours old

It hurts & burns. Opening Eyes. I don’t want to see this. Resisting, struggling to breathe, choking on air. Shivering. Too weak to scream.
 
 

a girl

She doesn’t really want a boyfriend, just a friend. She just doesn’t feel like she can trust anyone she doesn’t spend huge amounts of time with & she can’t justify why anyone would spend time with her unless they want to fuck her, so she gives them what they want even though it feels like a chore.
 
 

Adolescence

He has too many scars for his age, though maybe if he was older some would fade away. They’re all self-inflicted (some more so than others) to remind him of things. Usually to remind him of how much of an idiot he is or that he’s a bad judge of character or too willing to believe liars. He hopes the pain will teach him a lesson & looking at the scars will help him remember everything he needs to know, but maybe he’s just too stupid.
 
 

A-doll

She has a perfect body. It’s free of scars & in proportion to a doll’s. She’s the only angel that had her wings surgically removed & fell flawlessly. She’s so beautiful she seems to cast off a soft light & hurts to look directly at. She can’t really blend in with humans & has trouble deciding what to do with herself.
 
 

again

I’m in the mall & I’m not sure why because I really don’t like this place. It’s not even a scruffy kids' mall. It’s a nice slick young urban professional mall & there are only a few teens here & they’re all high class suburban. I’m looking for one of those gray camouflage t-shirts, but I keep forgetting why I’m here & wander around wherever the girl I’m with wants to go. I suddenly feel very lost & useless & valueless for no reason I can link to any particular thing or event. I feel like I’m going to cry & I want to do it alone & I don’t want to talk to anybody. I want to go to a bathroom, but I don’t want to have to talk to a clerk about it. I’m looking at a brochure map of the mall by the counter to find out where the most obscure public bathroom is & the clerk comes up to me & asks if she can help me & I start to cry & I put the brochure down & start running away. Running & worming through people down an escalator, my silver jacket lifting up behind me like some kind of cape. There’s a woman in a red dress who’s also running just like me. Her tears are a little more obvious than mine. Eventually she stops at a stroller where her child appears to have been abandoned & I stop at the same time so I’ll be associated with her instead of accosted. I’m walking as quick as I can to the bathroom & my hair’s blowing back a little. When I get to the bathroom it’s empty & it’s clean. I sit in a corner leaning against a wall with my left shoulder under the counter & the moment’s already almost passed & my eyes are getting dry. The tile floor is cold & my palms are sucking the cool in. I kind of wish I was with someone who could just hold me still & make me go to sleep & that I was a teenager again with her.
 
 

Aia

Her name is Aia & she’s my daughter or at least I pretend she’s my daughter. She’s not human, but I love her (& maybe that’s why I love her). She’s this blackish blue color & she changes shapes & sometimes she looks like a Geiger-esque alien, but she’s still always a little rubbery & soft & squishy & snuggable. Her favorite thing to eat is blue jello in a glass. She projects her mouth into the bottom of the glass & swirls it around like a blender, playing with the texture to entertain herself.
    Every morning I work with her to try to get her to shape on purpose instead of the random momentary emotional gratification or self-entertainment ways she normally does. She’s three years old, but she can’t really talk very well because she doesn’t stay in forms with vocal chords enough to really practice like a human baby would.
    All of my friends know about her (she won’t let herself be hidden in the apartment) & my girlfriend Stacy actually only works part-time so she can spend more time with her. I think she’s semi-afraid to or feels guilty to leave Aia alone, which is something I had no choice but to get over years ago if I wanted to keep her. Aia goes to bed at nine & that’s when we go out & run errands & do whatever.
    It’s 9:30 now & me & Stacy are going to a show & I’m locking the bottom door (it’s a secured building) when our friend Jacob comes up. He wants to see Aia for some reason & I’m like, "Aia’s asleep. She goes to bed at nine."
    He says, "I want to see if I can snort her in me, or inject a piece of her, or swallow part of her."
    I know he’s high & he’s just looking for a way to get higher & for some reason thinks Aia is the way, but I still want to kill him for what he just said. I want to cut a hole in the back of his skull & rip his brain out. I just say, "What the fuck is the matter with you?" & I put my keys away.
    Jacob’s running his left hand through his hair slowly & violently. "Aw, man, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Can I see Aia?"
    "No, god damn it. Why don’t you just go home & sleep off whatever you’re on."
    "Yeah, sleeping it off is a good idea. Can I do it at your place?"
    "No.... Look, we’re in a hurry; we’re going to a show. If you want to talk or something tomorrow I get home around seven-thirty."
    "Yeah, okay." He’s just looking me in the eyes for a second & then his right eye starts twitching & then he leaves.
    We go to the show & I’m not sure if the band actually sucks or if I’m just preoccupied with Jacob & his interest in Aia. I end up drinking three Long Island Ice Teas just to make me start to think everything is okay & then Stacy drives us home.
    When we get home, Aia’s gone & I’m freaking out & breaking lamps. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do because you can’t report a missing shape-changing baby that doesn’t officially exist to the police. I have Stacy (she’s usually the one who freaks out & that she’s calm or in shock now is really beneficial to me) drive me to Jacob’s even though our apartment wasn’t broken into (at least not by force) so I don’t even think he could’ve been the one who did it. But the way he was acting, I know he must somehow know what’s going on.
    I’m trying to remain calm. I pound on his door & open it in the same motion & he’s lying on his couch watching tv. "Where the fuck is Aia?" I’m saying it very calmly as I walk towards him, with the same calmness I’ll gouge his eyes out with if he starts to fuck around.
    "Oh, shit. She’s already gone? Man, you should’ve let me see her." He sits up & I get on one knee & put my hands on the sides of his head.
    "Who the fuck has her?"
    "Timmy’s been selling this blue crystal goo for a couple weeks now. This stuff that makes you feel god-like. That’s what I was on. & sometimes it blares you with these visions & I saw what looked like a full size Aia." I pull my hands off his head & his skin seems a little too jiggly when I do & that makes his story seem fucked up enough to be true.
    "Where does this guy live?"
    "536 East Second."
    I leave & Stacy stayed in the car & I tell her where we need to go & she drives & when we get there I get the tire iron out of the trunk before I go up to the house. I go & I pry open the door & walk in & go upstairs to where there’s some noise & I open the door & I’m about to ask where Aia is when I see her. Half of her is in a bucket & the other half is in a stack of vials.
    The guy putting her in vials (Timmy, I guess) turns to me & says, "Oh, I didn’t think you’d find me." His skin is rippling as he talks & the ripples come together two inches above his left eye in a bulge that dissipates. I’m just staring at him & Aia in shock. He puts his right hand up & his fingers elongate like they’re on fire & then he jumps towards me.
    I smack his hand with the tire iron before he can hit me & there’s a crack like bones breaking, but the flesh is all rubbery & his hand is forming back so I slam my body against his. He’s laughing at me & coiling his arms around me like snakes & his mouth is projecting out towards my face. I take my thumbs & push them hard in his eyes & they sink down into his head. His arms uncoil & his mouth goes back to human as he kicks me off him & puts his hands to his eyes.
    I grab the tire iron & start stabbing it down through his chest into the floor. He has nine holes in his chest that are bleeding & his rubbery skin is trying to fill them, so I shove the tire iron through his head where his third eye would be.
    I grab an empty cardboard box & scoop the vials in & take the tire iron out of his head & put it in the box & grab the bucket of my daughter & wipe my fingerprints off the doorknobs & go out & get in the car.
    Stacy’s saying, "What the fuck happened?" & I can smell that I must be covered with blood.
    "Just drive the fucking car."
    She’s leaning over the parking brake, her face straight in front of me staring in my eyes & touching the right side of my face gently with her left hand, asking, "Are you okay?"
    "Drive the fucking car."
    She pulls away from me & drives us home.
 
 

Amanda

She’s shaking & I grab her & hold her still. It’s almost more shocking to her that I can hold her still than that she almost just died. She wants to be flipping out & to be crying & to be going crazy, but it goes against her strong-powerful-in-control image. I just say that everything’s okay now & suddenly it is. Her eyes dry without ever crying & her voice stops quivering & she pushes me away.
 
 

Anti-Depressants

I just took two of the pills that make me feel cold & sad. I’m knotted up in my covers but my teeth are still chattering. I think I might be dying for real this time & I’m more scared than ever because I actually do want to die this time & I’m not going to get any help, but this hurts a lot more than I expected it to. My limbs won’t move & I’ve begun to dis-associate my body from whatever it is I actually am & it’s as if I’ve blacked out now, but am still conscious & still exist. I’m not quite as distant as I want to be.
 
 

art book

My friend Katherine is at my house & it makes everything feel all right. We’ve consciously been avoiding each other for about two years & most of that time (for me at least) because of feeling guilty for not being in touch with her for so long (not that I don’t remember why we stopped spending time together, just that it seems so silly & juvenile to me now that I don’t know how things got that extreme). She’s one of my favorite people of all time & it’s nice to be with her again. We’re looking through this art book I have with pictures of these bright colored monsters sculpted out of food & food related items. There’s something very scary & organic & real feeling about them. There’s one picture whose main colors are red & white & has these vicious looking milk cartons that look like both firemen & arsonists. There’s this one image of this corn creature where there are these little flecks of blood around its mouth & for me that’s the most disturbing image of all, because the way it’s done is so subtle & normal & real; like something you want to consume that you feel in the end consumes you physically or emotionally.
    Katherine’s insisting she needs to take a shower for some reason & so she does & borrows some clothes. Then I need to shower because I feel that otherwise I’d smell in comparison. When I get out of the shower, she’s sleeping on my bed & I put on a cd of blurps & bleeps & volume swells type stuff & lie down to sleep next to her.
 
 

bended

I’m lying on the floor & she’s lying on the bed & the only light in the room is from a lamp obscured by boxes so it’s very shadowy. That amount of shadowy where patterns seem to start to move & blur & become incredibly creepy. I get up on my knees & lean myself onto the bed. She seems so beautiful & out of place here & the shadows make her seem like she’ll change shape into something more hideous & appropriate at any moment. I take her hand & she turns & looks at me & her eyes seem clear & aware & I feel like they could consume me. Mouths could open from the center of her pupils & eat my soul. I say, "I want to fuck you," in the most insecure voice I’ve probably ever had. she lifts her right leg stretching it & curls it into a ball. It’s bending in four places beneath her jeans, like she has four joints in her leg instead of just one knee. she says, "It wouldn’t be appropriate," & yawns & her face stretches & bubbles a little.
 
 

Box

Everything seems gray & dimly lit before I open the door. Everything is bright behind him & the light rushing in hurts my eyes. He dresses like he thinks he’s a rock star & maybe even he is a rock star for a few hours a week. His shirt looks like an american flag & he has a black leather jacket & elliptical silver glasses & tall sculpted black hair. His right hand is propped against the doorjamb & he’s leaning with his right leg crossing over his left at the ankle. He reaches into his jacket with his left hand & pulls out a golden box. "This is for you," his voice is soft & a little high & he has a new york accent. I don’t remember putting my hands out, but they are & he’s setting the golden box on them. I’m staring at the box & I hear him whispering, "I’m sorry, I have to go." There’s a sound like beating wings & when I look up he’s gone. I close the door, but it’s still bright inside.
 
 

btr

These kids saw me & recognized me today. I shouldn’t call them kids because they’re college graduates & married now (& the same age as me). Fuck. I’m so jealous. I can’t imagine being able to do any of that. I want to see what they’re like at home. I want to be the same way.
 
 

daybed

    She’s in town because she’s visiting her mother for the holidays, but for some reason she’s spending a lot of time with me. We’re both really high on pills & lying with/on each other half passed out on my bed. I really think I might love this girl & I even actually told her yesterday. She’s been having this real hard time deciding if she should cheat on her boyfriend & whether or not she already has. It’s really hard for me to give her advice because I think cheating is cruel, but I think she should break up with the boy & move in with me even though she has thousands of hours & dollars invested in her other relationship. We’re so messed up right now it’s obvious we can’t have sex & I say to her, "I know you can’t have sex with me because that would be cheating on him. But could you maybe not have sex with anybody besides me because that would be cheating on me?"
    "Huh?"
    "I don’t want to fuck you until/unless you break up with him. But I don’t want you to fuck anybody besides me anymore."
    "Oh."
    "Is that too demanding? Is that too much to ask?"
    "No. I just.... Can you hear that? When I close my eyes they start humming."
    I embrace her & squeeze her a little (which is also with all my strength right now) & say, "No, but I think I’m in love with you."
 
 

diamond ring

    She wears a diamond ring on her left hand every day, so I can never say anything to her. It’s not on today & I ask her out to dinner in a way that almost simply informs her that we are & I’m scaring myself. It’s the most aggressive thing I’ve ever done towards a girl. I am passive & submissive & weak & shy.
    When I meet her, she’s wearing a tight red dress with black buttons. Buttons are sexy. I don’t know anything about her & don’t have anything to say. When she orders, she orders the most typical safe thing on the menu. It’s really upsetting to me.
    She starts talking about how last time she ate here she had three cookies for dinner.
    Our dinner comes & I really haven’t said anything. I don’t know what I can say. "Excuse me, things aren’t really going very well right now for me & I don’t have anything I can offer you, but can I just be physically near to you until you disgust me?" I don’t think she’d find that acceptable.
    We finish eating & I pay for my dinner & the tip & she pays for hers & we walk towards where we both live mainly in silence. "Do you smoke?" she asks in a rising timid voice that sounds even younger than she is.
    "No. Do you?"
    "No." Her shoulders sink down like she just used her last possible conversation topic. We’re in front of her building.
    "Well, I guess I’ll see you later then," I say reaching out my hand, hoping she won’t take it, but will kiss me instead. Or maybe she will take my hand & lead me up to her room & store me under her bed after I become worthless to her (which I probably already am).
    She shakes my hand saying, "Good night," & turns away walking.
 
 

Dolly

We have this relationship where we’re not quite lovers. Maybe it’s like the relationship between a brother & sister or two real best friends; I don’t know how either of those work. We each allow each other a certain invasion of personal space & privacy & are allowed to touch each other’s skin. I would do anything in the world she asked me to. Be anything she wants me to be.
 
 

Dying in Africa

There’s a storm & the boat is quaking & I get up out of my sleep & go on deck. There are no stars, but the lightning flashes so often it’s easy to see. The wind is ripping down the mast & I’m not as scared of this as I should be. In one of the lightning flashes I see that we’re headed towards land. I go to the wheel of the ship & the man standing there is holding it steady even though the strain on his arms makes them look like they’ll burst. He stars screaming at me barely loud enough to hear over the wind, "We’ll be dying on the coast of Africa. At least when we come back it’ll be as something beautiful."
 
 

electric girl

The lights are dimming & blinking out & buzzing & snapping. It makes everything feel really creepy & it makes the little vines in the wallpaper look like they’re moving & alive. A man comes in wearing a black suit & says, "The kid talked. He put her in the electrical lines." "We can’t hold her there can we?" Everything goes dark & there are several blue flashes like lightning. She appears in the center of the room, her body naked & hairless & emitting blue light & crackling. She’s smiling & staring straight at me. She stretches her arms out & bursts apart in the opposite directions lighting the walls on fire.
 
 

elevator

We’re rising in a glass elevator not particularly quickly. It’s along the outside of the building & with each floor the building seems less monumentous. Eventually it becomes clear that we’re going higher than the other buildings & when I turn toward the building we’ve already passed its roof & are still ascending. One of the other riders leans out (the interior glass wall is only three feet high) & throws down a red superball. I sit in a corner & try to chew my fingernails (it’s not my nervous habit, I never really felt the need for one before), but they’re too cleanly cut. The ball comes back up & the passenger catches it cleanly. We penetrate a cloud & I have my eyes clenched shut when the elevator stops. I open them & the doors are open & the others are getting out. We’re in a building again now, so I walk out of the elevator. The floor is that polished granitey stuff & there’s recessed soft lighting & all the windows just give views of white. I’m vaguely following the others & there’s two steps down & then in front of me is some sort of coffee shop delicatessen. I ask for coleslaw & potato salad & the clerk gets them in white styrofoam containers & puts them in a white paper bag with a napkin & plastic fork & says, "Four-eighty-four," at the same time it lights up in blue digital on the cash register. I pay him & walk away & sit in a corner to eat.
 
 

Ellis

There’s this girl named Ellis who used to be my best friend. She’s totally cool & I really hate that I lost touch with her. I still hear about her every once in a while. She doesn’t have a permanent address or phone number & just stays at what seem to be pretty random people’s houses. I always seem to be one step behind her. I just want to have one more adventure with her. One more time where we almost die or at least I almost die & maybe we decide if we should live together forever or never see each other again. Just one last brutally honest confrontation to decide everything forever & ever. To put us both in our place.
 
 

escape attempt

    I’m visiting a friend or I was visiting a friend, but now I’m staying with some people I barely know. I don’t know off hand what school this is, but it must be a pretty nice one because these kids live in an on campus apartment that actually has a dishwasher. There’s me & the kids who live here (though I’m not sure how many or which ones they are) & maybe about five more people all eating some mushrooms & some pills. I’m messed up enough I can’t remember if it started out as or has now become morning, but it’s mid-morning now either way & we all decide to leave the apartment. I’m not even really able to notice much of anything beside the fact that my lips & eyes feel funny & that I have this weird after taste in my mouth (presumably from the salad dressing I used on a sandwich I made either last night or this morning). It’s awful gray outside & I’m not sure whether or not it’s very cold, but everyone else is dressed in comparable degrees of warmth to me, so I assume I’m okay.
    We go into this stone building that seems like it might be a gymnasium, but inside it’s a totally empty room around 30 feet tall with the walls painted black halfway up & then red up to the continuous row of windows lining the ceiling. The room is echoing as we walk across the floor (the same way a racquetball court does) & then we walk through a little doorway & we’re in the student union. There are all these little stores & I’m paranoid that I’m going to go into one & accidentally pick something up & put it in my pocket & then they’ll say I’m shoplifting & I’ll have to deal with the police in the state I’m in & I don’t want to think about that as much as I just did. We go into this coffee shop type place & it’s all black & red too. There’s this girl I see who’s not in our group & she’s sitting at a table alone not drinking coffee, not reading, not doing anything, with her arms lying straight out in front of her. I’m attracted to her for some reason & it strikes me as really strange because just yesterday I was thinking how I’m not really into new girls. I’m only interested in a couple girls who already have an established history with me or girls who look significantly similar to them. But this girl is new, brand new. I’ve never seen her before & I don’t know anything about her. I’m thinking that she’s not new for me, but for the whole world. That she’s fresh & beautiful & scarless to the world & was born flawless in her early twenties. I’m thinking about going over & talking to her when she stands up & walks over to me. She sits down on the table in front of me (several people are sitting on the table because the tables aren’t big enough to seat us all otherwise). She reaches her hand out & picks up mine & says, "Hello, I don’t know you. My name’s Melissa." Her features are highly stylized like she comes from the future or that could be an effect from my intoxication. I can’t really explain what she looks like or even what she’s wearing because every time I blink she completely disappears. All I know is that she’s beautiful. "I’m Michael Ian Sorrel." I’m still shaking her hand & I stop & I start making circles around the base knuckle of her index finger with my thumb. I can’t even feel that I’m doing it because my entire body’s so numb. My vision’s going a little bit blurry, probably because my eyes are crossing, & I’m breathing through my mouth & I think I might start drooling & look like a total tard. "I like you," I say letting go of her hand & wrapping my arms around her waist, "I’m sorry I had to be so intoxicated for our first meeting." I realize what I’m doing & in a jerky motion pull my arms out from around her & sit up straight against my chair & close my eyes so she’s less likely to try to gouge them out. She laughs at me & puts her left hand on the right side of my head just above the ear & runs it through the tangles of my short hair. It feels like a thousand syringes taking blood samples from the side of my head. I open my eyes & say, "Thank you," & she says, "My pleasure." I close my eyes again & they’re making that bass rumbling sound they do when they try to roll back in my head & I love that sound. I wish I could record it so I could listen to it until somebody near me killed me for annoying them so much. I’m just sitting there with the girl (we might be talking to each other, I’m not paying attention) for I don’t know how long & then my group’s leaving so I say, "I have to go, but I know your name’s Melissa & I like you & I don’t like many humans. Maybe I’ll see you later." I’m already wandering away, but I’m still staring at her & she’s giving this cute little fingers touching palm wave & saying, "Uh-huh." She’s out of sight & I’m with my group & we’re outside & it’s very gray out & I’m noticing that even though the concrete’s dry, the ground is muddy. One of the girls from the group is starting to hang on me like she’s mistaking me for a high school boyfriend. I normally feel really fucking weird about physical contact, but I’m kind of pretending this girl is Melissa, My-Lissa. I bet her dad use to call her My-Lissa & that I’d better not because it would make her feel uncomfortable & maybe her dad used to abuse her because it seems like all cool girls’ dads did. We’re at this park & it has some statues & these big oak trees full of green leaves & I have this thing right now where I think they’re fake because I recognize this park from some scene in a movie or tv show or maybe just my past & it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing where real trees would be used. So me & the girl who’s now holding my hand (She’s wearing blue jeans, I hate blue jeans. They’re so "I’m a drone clone who does what they’re supposed to." They don’t express anything & they don’t look good & they just aren’t cool. Or maybe they are cool & I’m not & that’s the problem.) climb up into one of the trees & I’m simultaneously having fun & deathly afraid of flying or falling or both. I read this story about a guy on panther mushrooms who kept climbing on something & falling off because he knew it had happened, but wasn’t sure if it was in the past or future & kept figuring each time he should go ahead & do it to be sure. I’m holding on to the tree oh so tight with my left hand & I’ve got my right arm draped across the girl (we’re sitting on the same big branch). This is one of those moments where I feel like my brain’s about to pop out of my head & get all dirty on the ground & walked on before I notice, but that’s alright with me. I’m perfectly happy & it’s not dependent on anyone or anything except the chemicals inside my body & it’s really wonderful to know (remember) that drugs can do that & that loads of people do it & sometimes I forget. The girl’s talking at me & I guess I’m spacing out further than usual because she’s squeezing me & asking if I’m okay & I kiss her on the mouth with closed lips to keep her quiet for a second. I close my eyes & I feel like I’m spinning as I pull myself away from her. I feel like someone cast me into a void & then I remember I’m sitting in a tree or was last time I checked & I open my eyes & I still am in the tree, but I lost my euphoric moment. I’m looking at the girl whose hand I’m holding & I feel bad that I don’t like her more. She’s pretty & stuff & she seems nice & she likes me I guess (at least when she’s high) & that should be more than enough reason for me to want to be her boyfriend. It actually is more than enough reason based on almost every girl I’ve gone out with before, but I don’t want to spend just enough time with her to start to care when she admits she doesn’t dig me as much as most other boys or something. If she’d be willing to be with me forever instead of always (a very subtle difference, I know), I’d probably be very happy or at least as happy as I’ll ever be (at least with her). But even though I don’t know her & can’t even remember her name, I feel like I’m already cheating on her because I know I would with Melissa &/or maybe two or three other girls from the past who I actually maybe really do love even though I don’t know what that means. I use to think I had some test or something about who would I live for (because I’d die for anybody for any excuse 90% of the time) & who’d be mad at me for dying & then it turned into something about backing up suicides with adequate reasons & then it was nothing at all, which is what it is now. I remember I told this one girl that I’m still in love with or something (even though I haven’t seen her in years & don’t know if she’s married or dead), that I loved her & she said, "I love you too, but I’m not in love with you." I thought I was going to die right there right then on the phone & I tried to kill myself with drugs when I hung up, but I didn’t own enough & I was too upset to leave my room to try to find more. I don’t ever want to do that to anybody. Maybe that’s why I go out with anybody who likes me & try to show them they shouldn’t (was that an epiphany?). I say to the girl (though we’ve been talking on & off for I don’t know how long because my sense of time is distorted, this is the first thing I actually plan to say), "You know that I’m just visiting here & you can only take me so seriously & I’m not very stable or all that great anyway, right?" She’s looking at me with that "I heard you, but it’ll take my brain a minute to figure out what you said" look & then she shows me her teeth in a smile & says, "Of course," like it’s obvious, which I guess it is; but I was secretly hoping she was really falling in love with me in that still saying "what if..." after you’re married with three kids kind of way. The drug effects kick back in like a ringing bell lowered around me. I’m looking out & the edge of this branch goes over a statue of some man in a victorian suit setting a dove free & I want to climb out & drop on to it & in my mind I do & I land on the dove which grows to be the right size for me to sit on & it breaks off & goes up & down in the air for a second like a rollercoaster & then smashes nose first into the ground. I know reality’ll never beat that, so I don’t even try, but I do hop down out of the tree & stand up & fall down slowly & lightly enough that I don’t even bounce. I’m totally paranoid that the group is gone, but I see one of them & I rush over & I’m just in time because it’s starting to get dark & we’re going back to the apartment. Somebody’s trying to convince me that I should go get my car so I’m like, "(A) I can’t drive right now & (B) when we get to my car we’re already there," & now I realize that they thought this car parked on the corner is mine & it is the same kind & color, but it’s not it, so we walk to the apartment. Once we get to the apartment everybody’s ready to sleep or at least try to sleep. We’re all picking out spaces & I’m sleeping in a ball on a counter under some cabinets.
    It’s not morning, but the only light on is in the bathroom in the hall, so it simulates that early morning dimness. I’m crouching up looking around & sleeping on the sofa bed is this guy I think I knew from high school named Jon & there’s this other guy sleeping on the bed with his arm draped over him. I want to say, "Hey, Jon, that guy’s sleeping with you," but then I realize it’s probably not news to him. It’s just really shocking to me that he in particular is queer. I look over at the other kitchen wall & there’s this girl who’s awake & sitting on the counter over the dishwasher next to the sink. She’s really tan & has short black extreme hair & looks cute in that kid down the street a few years younger than you kind of way. I’ve met her before; we’re actually friends. Her name is Elsie. She whispers fairly loudly, "Heh, Michael, come ’ere," & she’s patting her right hand on the counter. I get up & I have to walk around somebody sleeping on the floor to get to her. I sit down & she puts her right arm around my shoulders & I slip my left arm behind her back resting my hand at her waist in response without even noticing. "So how was your day?" she asks in a speaking voice, but at a quiet level. "I liked it. I liked it a lot, you?" "I can’t really complain," she squeezes me against her a little, "I enjoyed it myself. I kind of wish I’d gotten to spend more time with you instead of Jeffrey Fuck," she’s glaring towards a boy sleeping in a recliner. "I know what you mean. I mean, I like the girl I was with, I can’t even remember her name...." "Erin. Erin Frimodt." "Yeah, Erin. She’s a nice girl & all & it’s flattering that she, or anybody for that matter," I just realized I’m still not sober, "likes me, but there are other people who I’d rather spend my time with. Especially because I’m not just looking for somebody to have sex with regularly any more like I was a couple years ago. I’m not even sure if I’m looking for someone to really have sex with at all. Just, you know, somebody who’s lost like me & we can give each other some clues &.... Basically just a friend & maybe I’m allowed to kiss them every once in a while when I want to." "You’re funny," she’s laughing a little & shaking her head. "What?" She’s smiling real big, but without teeth, "You’re just so self-involved. It’s like you think the world would be lost without you." "Are you saying it wouldn’t be?" "No. It might be. I might be. It’s not like you’re the only one going through some suicidal emotional crisis. I don’t know if everyone does & I know most people don’t let it get as far as you have, they usually settle for something before thing go too far & don’t even try to think that makes you better than them or anything." "Oh no. I know that I’d settle for anything if I thought I could deal with it for over a month. Fuck, I don’t like traveling across the country mooching off of my friends or in this case someone I don’t even really know. I just don’t know what else to do, because when I stand still it’s like everything from the past is gonna catch up to me & then I’ll have to kill myself to avoid it. I don’t even know what it is I’m so scared of anymore. But I’m just so used to it & so locked into it I don’t even know what else I could do anymore. You know. It’s like I met this girl this morning -- God, a lot’s happened in one day. I met this girl named Melissa in that coffee place & I really wanted to spend more time with her, but.... Fuck, I lost my point." I’ve been staring straight ahead while I’ve been talking & I turn to Elsie & her head’s resting on my shoulder & her free hand’s limp on my lap & I know she’s asleep.
    I kiss her on the top of the head & she says, "Thank you," & knocks me down to lie with her with my back against her breasts & stomach & her arm around me. I tell her, "I want to say something to make you hate me, because I don’t want to ever hurt you. I don’t ever want to hurt anybody." "I know," she has this voice that’s a perfect blend between a mother & child’s. "& I don’t want anybody to hurt me anymore either," I’m whispering it & crying a little. "I know," she says in the same mother/child tone, "just go to sleep, you’re okay right now." I want to call her a liar & I want to runaway from everything forever, but maybe she’ll let me stay with her a couple days because I don’t have anything else to do & I don’t think she wants to hurt me & her body feels nice & warm.
 
 

factory

I got a job. Actually my friend Pete got me a job. The factory he worked at is closing & they needed to hire some temps for a couple days to clean the building & it pays $12 an hour. I get there & it’s dark & it’s raining slightly & all the workers are finishing off a closing party. I find Pete & he says, "Heh, man, see all that food over there?" He’s pointing to a huge box of mainly junk food. "The boss is going to take whatever’s left. You have a car & I don’t so I figured you could help me smuggle it out & we can split it." I can’t afford to eat regularly & am down to a skin & bones eighty-five pounds. "Yeah, that sounds good," I say & we’re already each lifting an end of the box (it’s two feet tall & two feet wide & five feet long). We take it out to the loading dock where for some reason there are a bunch of people dressed in black smoking cigarettes. It’s still drizzling & we try to figure out some way to keep the food dry, but quickly give up. I jump down the six feet to the parking lot & Pete pushes the box over the edge & I slide it down the wall while he gets down. We carry it to my car & put it in the back seat. I’m going paranoid about the boss might see the food in my car, so me & Pete decide to skip work & go to his house instead. We get there & eat some corn chips & get drunk off cheap vodka. In the morning the phone’s ringing & I answer it & it’s Pete’s boss & he’s saying he was hoping I would get more done last night & could I get in as soon as possible. I don’t even wake Pete up before I go to the factory. I get there & the boss is telling me that I need to sweep out the whole place & clean the bathrooms & then he leads me to this weird trough built in the floor filled with green slime & says, "But the most important thing is to get this stuff out of here. I don’t care what you do with it." Then he leaves. I turn a big trash can sideways & put it in the trough & get as much of the slime in it as I can & then I’m scooping the rest into it using a dust pan & by some miracle I seem to get it all in without getting it on me. I’m dragging the trash can out to the loading dock & when I get there, there’s a mack-truck. The truck is facing the loading dock & in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down is Ming the Merciless with eyes wide open & hands tight on the wheel like he’s jacked up on speed. I aim the trash can & when I spill it the splash first hits his windshield, but then I correct it so it goes in his window. He rolls up his window & gives me a dirty look more along the lines of "Shut up smart ass" than "I am going to kill you." I go back in & am in the bathroom washing my hands violently in case I got any of the green stuff on them. The boss steps in & closes the door quickly as he steps back as if he saw me doing something vulgar. I dry my hands & step out & the boss is standing there. I’m about to say, "I’m sorry I haven’t gotten more done," when he says, "Good work, you can go home now," & slips two hundred dollar bills into my shirt pocket.
 
 

Father’s Day

The telephone’s ringing & it’s annoying me because it’s waking me up from a nice long sleep. I get up & walk the three steps to answer it. "Hello." "Happy Father’s Day!" It’s a woman’s voice, very youthful & happy. "Thanks, but I’m not a father." "You wouldn’t think so would you?" Her voice is all vicious & bitter now. I’m about to say, "What the fuck are you talking about?" when I hear her hang up. I hang up the phone & go back to bed trying to figure out if I really might have an illegitimate child somewhere.
 
 

Flawless

I’m cutting the imperfections of my skin out to purify my body. I want to be as clean as I can be for my ascension. I want to realize the truth completely. I want to be filled & healed until I’m flawless, without scars. I just want to be what I used to be.
 
 

friend’s house

I’m visiting him for the first time in a long time & the first time since he has his house. It’s like a club inside. There’s a stage slightly behind you & to the left as you walk in. In the back it splits into two levels, the top is filled with records & cd’s & the bottom has pool tables. I go to play pool & am putting some of the balls on the table when I realize some of them aren’t balls, but these twenty-six sided semi-translucent crystal things. "What’s this all about?" I ask holding one up. "Oh, I lost some of the pieces. These make for a more interesting game anyway, because sometimes they break."
 
 

general store

I’m in one of those stores that wants to be all rustic. It has all this gray unfinished railroad tie type wood & looks like a barn & makes it feel colder than it actually is. They have all these tables set up with those woven parkas & blankets made out of the same stuff on them with various stripe-ish designs woven in. There’s this girl in the store that I like. She’s just another customer or potential customer like me & I’ve had a crush on her & seen her in town randomly for a couple of years. She’s the only thing in the store of any interest to me. I don’t want to stare at her because it makes me feel like a jerk, so I’m wandering through the store looking at the floor & occasionally looking up at her, but always avoiding eye contact. There’s a dime on the floor & I pick it up & then I see a penny on the floor so I pick that up too. I’m in the back corner of the store when she comes running up to me & she’s holding her left hand up in the a-okay sign holding something between her thumb & index finger. She says, "Look, I found a nickel!" I go, "That’s nothing," & pull the change out of my pocket. "I found eleven cents." I see a quarter on the floor about ten feet away & I say pointing, "Look, there’s a quarter."
 
 

Girl beside me in Spanish Class

    I want to go out with her for no particular reason. I don’t know her very well, just enough to know we don’t have a lot in common. That she’s a college bound girl & I’m a boy who likes to hallucinate & is doing it right now. She might be a JV cheerleader. She has blond hair & these glasses she puts on so she can read the black board & a notebook divided into sections & pretty teeth that she shows off with the way she chews gum. I don’t want to just go on a date with her, I want to be her boyfriend for six months (my longest relationship ever lasted two months). After all, maybe she’d have a use for me to annoy her parents or make her feel worldly & dangerous. Class is kind of over, but the bell hasn’t rung & I go to talk to her & I’m getting all paranoid so the first thing I say is, "You think I’m on drugs don’t you?"
    "No."
    "You just think I’m some druggie loser who’s going to be a failure, huh? Well I get good grades. I get A’s & B’s, you didn’t know that, huh?"
    "No."
    "Do you think acid’s a hard drug?"
    "Huh?"
    "LSD. I’m on it right now. It’s a lot of fun."
    She stops chewing her gum & is staring at my eyes (I know my pupils are pulsing) with her mouth hung open. The bell rings & she leaves. I don’t think she loves me anymore.
 
 

Gun

I should buy a gun. Then when I meet a jerk, I could just kill him/her instead of having to deal with their retarded asses over & over. Or maybe I should start a plague for them involving bleeding open wounds & paralysis & an inability to swallow. They’ll suffer for themselves just like they’ve always tried to make other people suffer for them. Or maybe I should just buy a gun.
 
 

Half & Half

    I’m on the train to somewhere & the woman I’m with acts like she’s my mother. The inside of the train is really nice. It has this carpeting that’s mainly red & gold & the whole feeling of it reminds me of a really nice hotel’s dining room. We’re sitting at a booth (there aren’t any actual tables, just booths) waiting for our waiter. I’m drinking half & half from the little white plastic containers & it’s making me high because I drank a lot of it once when I was hallucinating & now its taste flashes me back. I get up & walk to an empty booth & pull the front of my shirt up & lie down on the table & absorb its soothing cool. I realize what I’m doing; so I get back up & go back to my booth, where the waiter’s taking my signi’s order. I sit down & I’m about to burst out laughing because I think my waiter plays Alfred on the Batman cartoon. He turns to me, "& for you, sir?"
    "Do you have blueberry muffins?"
    "No, sir, I’m afraid we don’t."
    "Well, I just want cake & water then."
    He’s looking at me like he wants me to know that he knows I’m fucked up & it’s inappropriate. He’s wrong, because the truth is it’s never appropriate for me to be sober because I can’t handle reality if I am. "What kind would you like this evening?"
    I’m massaging my eyes with my middle & index fingers & I’m way to into it to answer him.
    "Red velvet," my girlfriend (I hate that word) says.
    When I open my eyes, she’s eating a salad & my cake & water (the water has no ice in it for some reason; maybe I ordered it like that, I sometimes do) are in front of me. When she chews, her face looks all nutty. It seems like she’s trying to transform herself into another girl & I’m not sure, but it might be working. Her salad has cherry tomatoes cut in half & croutons & I wish I had croutons; but I don’t so I start eating the cake. The cake really doesn’t seem to have any flavor & I don’t think I can drink the water or I’ll drown. I don’t want to be confined & my back’s starting to hurt & I find my head & right shoulder & left hand hit hard by the window at the end of the booth when I try to get out. I can feel a lump forming above my right eye & I’m crying because it hurts & I’m listening to my blood circulate. I’m sitting on my hands & biting my lower lip & have my eyes closed & am trying to remain calm.
    I feel fingers on the right side of my face & open my eyes quickly. I could swear it’s a different girl than when I closed my eyes. She looks over to her right & it takes me a second, but then I turn my head to the left & my friend Josh is leaning into the booth & he’s close enough that I might accidentally kill (or kiss) him. He seems bigger & scarier than I remember.
    "So what’s going on, big guy?" he says, his breath smelling faintly like cookies.
    "Nothing I know. Where are you going?"
    "To a movie at the stop coming up. Do you wanna go?"
    He’s right, there is a stop coming up & the train is moving very slowly. "Yeah, I want to; but let me find out if I can."
    "Okay." He walks off.
    I eat the rest of my cake & then get up & pull the girl out of the booth & start walking to the door & the waiter comes up to me & says, "Oh, let me get your check." He turns around & walks off. I know I don’t have any money to pay with & I’m not sure how to get out of my dilemma. I turn to the girl & she doesn’t seem to know what I’m thinking & she isn’t offering the solutions I thought she would. I don’t want to be in charge.
    The train stops & I rush to the door & my feet run out from under me when the waiter picks me up by the collar of my shirt from behind. He turns me to face him & he’s talking, but I can’t understand him. His skin looks very clear to me, like a delicate layer of plastic hermetically sealed to contain a violent yellow fluid. He’s disguised as a human (not even really disguised, just shaped like one). I push full force against his chest & I can feel my hands sinking into him, but the plastic holds & he falls. I walk to the door & get off the train even though the gap to the platform scares me. My hands smell like his plastic. I’m trying to get lost in the crowd & I do. I can feel my hair & fingernails growing & I’m looking for my girlfriend, but I can’t remember what she looks like.
 
 

(halloween)

I’m living in my car again. I’ve been doing it on & off so much lately it doesn’t feel substandard or deviant. It’s just a fact. My parents are so weird & I just can’t deal with them sometimes & I have to spend time alone & this is the easiest way I know how. It’s Halloween & I really want to be able to give out candy, but I don’t have a house or neighborhood to be at & I don’t think people’s parents will let kids come up to my car for candy even if I invent some story about my parents refusing to give out candy because they think it’s pagan & this is the only way I can give out candy. I wish I had the same teen-life everybody else seems to have; it would be so much easier.
 
 

her

We’re sitting on her bed sharing half a bowl of cereal (the only thing left to eat in her apartment). I wish she was my girlfriend so much, because I feel so much more comfortable with her right now than I ever have with any other girl in my life. But she’s all in love with two other boys, one of whom she’s engaged to & the other one whom she sleeps with two nights a week. I wish I could have someone like this every day when I get up. No need to speak or worry or hate, just like -- maybe love.
 
 

Her divinity is a lie

She’s dead inside me now. There’s nothing left to hate & nothing left to love. She’s not in my dreams anymore. I can’t sit around & hope & wait for her to save me. I have to save myself.
 
 

home

    Amy’s with me in my room at my parents’ house. She’s got a cd of primal screaming she brought with her that she’s putting on while simultaneously reading Jack Kerouac’s Book of Dreams & saying, "I want to go back to Japan & go to the Museum of Modern Earth in inland Japan." Through my closed door I can hear my parents walking up the stairs & talking. They’re talking about me & Amy fucking, which we don’t, & I hear my dad saying some rude phrase about me having my pants around my ankles & I’m embarrassed & I get on my bed & curl up in a ball against the wall. Amy sits next to me on the bed & rolls me on to my back & I can feel tears running down toward my ears. I start talking fairly quietly saying, "Oh my god. I can’t believe they said that. I can’t believe they’re that rude & obnoxious & invasive & I’ve never noticed it before. How have I been able to live here this long? I’ve got to move out." Amy’s saying something soothing & I’m starting to fall asleep & she asks me to set my alarm for 4:30 so she can get up for something & I do.
    The alarm goes off & when I look at my window it’s already light out & I’m saying, "Fuck," because I realize I didn’t change my clock back to eastern time since I got back from traveling & since it’s really 7:30 we decide to blow off the day & go back to sleep.
 
 

hope

I think if I ever take LSD again I’m going to be sucked back in time. That I’ll either be 13 (the first time I ever did it) or 16 (when I started taking it chronically) again & everything since never happened or maybe just hasn’t happened yet. I kind of want it to happen because I’m always feeling old lately, but I’m kind of scared because I don’t know how well I could put up with all the crap of being a teenager all over again. I guess I didn’t really put up with it last time, I just numbed it away for five years getting high more or less every day. It would make LSD seem even cooler & more powerful & lovable than it already does to me; so maybe I better start taking it chronically again, just in case.
 
 

house sitter

I’m at my parents’ old house. I haven’t lived here & they haven’t lived here for years, but through some fluke I landed a job house sitting here. It’s really freaky to me & I keep expecting to suddenly be in junior high again hoping that my first official girlfriend will call me (her parents are weird (at least that’s what she told me) so I can’t call her & I’m embarrassed not about my parents finding out I have a girlfriend as much as them taking note of anything about my life in general. So she calls & then we meet somewhere instead of talking on the phone or sitting in living rooms like couples our age are supposed to). But everything just stays in the present & I’m not sure if I’m happy about that or not because as horrible & painful as teenlife can be, it is exciting. I’m standing outside by the driveway at this place where some rose bushes used to be, but now there’s just grass. My friend Amy pulls up in her car. She gets out & then leans back into her car pulling out a pile of clothes & walks over to me asking, "Are these yours?" "I don’t think so, Should they be?" "I don’t know. I saw them lying on a lawn half a block down & thought it looked like stuff you’d wear." I’m thumbing through what she’s holding & it does look like stuff I’d wear. It’s suit pants & full button shirts in black & grays & a black velvet jacket. "Let’s put it inside," I say taking half the stack & going to the front door, "Was there anything else there?" "I’m not sure." I throw the stuff in through the open door (not stepping inside) & say, "Let’s see if there is." We walk down the street & it’s the house this girl I liked (if "liked" is the right word) when I was four lived in, but there aren’t any more clothes around.
 
 

heart star

    I can't believe I'm subjecting myself to this. She's real & I'm letting her see the real me underneath my masks. I'm scared for a moment & I start to run; but I don't have any place I can go, so I make it look like I always planned to run in a circle. There's a picnic table in front of me & I guess the drug is impairing my judgment because I try to jump over it & somehow do. Suddenly I'm not far from her & she's standing with her feet far apart & her arms outstretched (like one of those little yellow "under construction" men), an end of her scarf in each hand. I begin to slow for the matador trick, because I'm afraid I might knock her down & damage her beautiful skin on the asphalt, but she suddenly out maneuvers me & wraps & binds me with the scarf. She says, "Look, ma, I caught me one," in a mock southern accent & begins laughing as she wraps her arms around me so tight we begin to wobble & fall slightly controlling ourselves. Her body feels good against mine, because it's cold & I'm not really properly dressed for the weather; but it's also scaring me, because I think she might hurt me both emotionally & physically. I think I'm falling in love. It's very unusual & scary for me to hand power over & I'm not talented at it, so I smuggle it symbolically through some toy I have in my pocket.
    It makes her all giddy & smiley. "Wow! This is really neat." She's squishing the little yellow ball of stars & it keeps reforming into a ball. She's smearing it all over our bodies & it's leaving this residue that I think feels like snot, but she thinks feels like come.
    We're lying in the parking lot staring in each other's eyes when I notice these little red mites on the asphalt. Suddenly I'm on my elbows staring & concentrating so much my eyes hurt. She's about to ask what it is, but sees them before it comes out. "What are they doing here? They're real, aren't they?"
    I'm not paying attention to her. I'm fascinated. They're small & simple & alive. "Why can't I draw things like that?"
    "You can, just draw a little circle with legs."
    "Yeah, but that wouldn't be alive & stuff. I don't understand what makes them alive & moving & stuff, but my drawings not."
    "I bet every morning they go on a quest to get all the way across the parking lot."
    "Why? There's nothing there when they get there. What would be the point in that?" (Why am I suddenly hostile?)
    "I don't know... it's just what they do is all," she shrugs. I give up the argument or conversation or whatever it is.
    "I wonder if I can drive?" She says & suddenly we're in her car as if by magic.
    I'm in the passenger seat & the car seems really messy & I'm trying to help her navigate. She's never really been to the park before & I used to come here every day so I could call someplace my own where I didn't have to worry about keeping the image of my parents' son & could be myself. The car feels as if it's moving fast while it's probably not going over fifteen miles per hour. Her ability to drive like this impresses me & makes me see her as experienced & worldly, like I need her to be.
    Every time she gains a piece of knowledge, she either says it out loud or thinks it loud enough for me to hear. "Graveyard." "Weird little building." "Hit speed bump too fast." "People playing tennis." "End of the road." She turns the car around & we park in a different place, where for no apparent reason someone put one parking spot going into woods completely surrounded by trees.
    She takes out the yellow ball I gave her earlier & is smearing it on her steering wheel & the windshield which holds on to its sticky residue. "This little ball of happiness is so great." She's almost giggly & perky.
    "But what happens if it runs out of all the stuff it puts out that makes it happy?"
    "Well, then it'll be just a neat little ball & besides, that might never happen."
    She just foiled (first outer inner last?) me, as if she totally knew what I was thinking & what the ball represented to me. I'm not sure exactly what's going on now, but for some reason I'm talking about an album cover when I become aware of myself again. "It's a picture of a wolf & a face, but they're both there at once. Superimposed. It's like you take two pictures...."
    "I know what superimposed means." She almost sounds militant.
    "Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought...."
    "That I wasn't as 'bright' as you. I use to be in all those college track geek courses like you & then this year I got a lot of flak when I dropped down to easier classes with cooler people who aren't as intent on being a little factory box."
    She's smart. It never really occurred to me that she isn't dumb; after all, pot is her drug of choice & she's a year older than me & consequently she should be more mature than me, but opts to spend time with me. There's a silence spreading through the car & I feel like it's emanating from my chest. I think she is as smart as me & a year more mature.
    She's holding up the soda bottle we bought earlier at Seven Eleven before the drugs kicked in. "This stuff is called 'Sparkle' & I'm going to feel ripped off if it doesn't." I start laughing much too hard at her joke & when I'm bent over laughing I decide for some reason to drink from the Taco Bell cup jammed between the parking break & my seat. I feel like I might get sick & open my door suddenly to spit the liquid out of my mouth & try to cough the flavor out.
    "What did you do that for?"
    I get out & I'm coughing smoke because it's so cold. Suddenly she's with me, draping over me like a vampire in a low-budget movie. "Are you alright? What happened?"
    "I drank from the cup."
    "Oh my god... do you know how long that's been there? I haven't eaten at Taco Bell in over a week."
    Suddenly I straighten myself up & I'm healed completely & feel taller than I've ever been before. When I look at her I can't make out any of her features & can't even tell if she really exists, so I grab her hand. I'm not sure why, but we're walking forward out of the little woodsy area toward the picket fence that surrounds a small graveyard.
    There's a woman walking by in front of us & I can hear her thoughts, like four people muttering, cast off from her like a scent. It's all jibberish to me. "Can you hear that?" I whisper.
    "What?"
    "What she was just thinking. That mumbly-jumbly racket as she walked by." She's looking at me like she isn't sure if she can trust me not to kill her anymore. We're in the graveyard. All the graves are sunken in about six inches as if the caskets recently gave way to let the dirt lower. All the headstones have the last name Buffaloe, most of them are small like plaques & only one of them is visible outside of the fence.
    "What kind of order do you think they're in?"
    "I don't know. They've just always been a back ground to me."
    "Wow, look at this one, born 1892 died 1906. That's just fourteen. I never could've gotten everything done by then."
    "Or undone," I'm not sure if I'm speaking or just thinking really really loud.
    "Oh man. Look at this, born 1896 died 1896. That really messes with me. I bet it would even if I was sober. That's really freaky."
    "Maybe he was stillborn. My brother was." There's a tree branch hanging over me & I reach up & pull it lower, almost hurting myself because I twist my arm the wrong way. I don't know what kind of tree it is, but I'm chewing on the end of one of its fingerish branches & she's pacing, mumbling years, & doing math.
    "Twenty-six, that could be me. What are you doing? Don't you dare hurt that tree; it's alive."
    "It doesn't have any leaves. Maybe it's dead."
    "No, look." She pulls it away from me. "It has buds. It's going to be fine next year." She lets it go & it snaps back a few inches over our heads.
    For some reason her saying all this brings forth an image of me having children with her, but in my vision the children are sexless clones & half our height instead of being like normal people's children. We still love them. Some of my clones are blind with patches of skin going across where their eyes should be & I'm afraid one day I'll have to confront them about how god didn't make them blind -- I did, because in high school I ate a lot of LSD.
    She grabs my hand & my vision quivers away. We're walking out of the cemetery towards the building that used to scare me when I was young. It's cinderblock & looks like it used to be blue a long time ago, but now the sun has bleached it almost white. I know it's bathrooms for when they have baseball games (they keep it locked the rest of the time), but I still have this idea that one door leads to piles of dead things & the other to the home of their killer. She's sitting down leaning against the wall & I have to do the same thing to keep from looking dumb. I'm staring straight ahead of me; they're just woods, nothing peculiar waiting or starving inside.
    We're speaking to each other, but neither what she's saying nor what I'm saying are really making sense to me. I'm nodding my head to the rhythm of the words & keep smacking it against the wall. "Wow, I just realized what that sensation was."
    "What?"
    "Well, see, I'm smacking my head against the wall & I'm getting sent messages that it hurts, but I forgot what pain felt like."
    "That might be a really good sign, being able to forget what pain is." She's smiling & showing her teeth like she might start eating me alive.
    "Yeah, but I think it's a bad one. It means I'm probably not able to take care of myself well enough to be left alone anymore." I'm blinking, but my eyes get caught shut. There's someone I see in front of me; it's a girl with black hair that's impossibly angly & stiff like plastic. When I force my eyes open I can still see her. "Wow, you can't see that, huh?"
    "See what?"
    "That stuff behind my right eye a little to the side. That strange hair... never mind, it's mine." My hairs' ends are splitting & it looks grey & frazzled & bendy & interesting. "I don't think my clothes function properly."
    "Why? They cover your skin so you don't have to share it."
    "Yeah, I guess, but it's cold & my pants aren't long enough & they don't look nice or interesting. I don't think I really like jeans. My shirt's okay though. And my boots are pretty warm & comfy. They're black & they go with everything."
    "Are you alright, you trailed off?" I must've stopped talking & kept thinking somewhere.
    "It feels like somebody's shoving their soul's finger through the base of my skull & wiggling it around in my brain. I really like it a lot."
    "You're keen." She's hugging me & mashing her head against mine as if it'll melt our minds together & we'll only be one entity after this. I don't think it's going to work, but it's warm & I want to put my arms around her to steal more of her warmth, but I don't want to be selfish.
    A car goes by & we realize it's almost dark & I'm remembering the park closes at dusk. "The park's about to...."
    "Close. I know. I was trying to figure out who was in that car. We better go." We're springing up to our feet & walking to the car. My legs are numb because of the cold & I wonder if she's as cold as I am.
    When we get in the car I reach over & touch her nose & it's cold, so I leave my hand there to help warm it. She's looking at me strangely as if I'm doing something peculiar. "I'm just warming it. It's cold."
    She pushes my hand away giggling & shaking her head & puts the key in the ignition. "Are you sure you should be driving? We could leave the car."
    "No, we'll be okay together." She's starting the car & it's scaring me. A) The grinding noise sounds like my bones would if they were grinding together because I had no fat in my body & B) it reminds me she's in control, not me. The car's moving & it seems like we're moving really fast, but the speedometer reads fifteen. My eyes feel dry, so I close them. The car's stopped at the park entrance when I open my eyes & she's talking.
    "Where do you want to go now?"
    "I don't know. I'm not good with decisions."
    "Do you want to go to the mall?"
    "Sure."
    "How do you get there from here?"
    "Just turn right." The car starts its creeping again, but then stops for the stop sign at the first intersection. Look right, look left, go. We really are going kind of fast now. We're going twenty-five, which is the speed limit, & "There's a hill & a sharp turn ahead."
    "Okay." The car slows to twenty & when we go under the streetlight I can see the bare skin of her face & she looks like an angel with the light shining off so bright. I lean my head against her shoulder; I'd kiss her if I didn't think it would kill us. I have that feeling all over like I'm dreaming or all my hair's going to fall out & it's impossible to keep my eyes open. "Oh, wow. Now I know where we are. This isn't even where I thought we were going." The light changes & when she shifts this time her shoulder moves & my head isn't comfortable anymore, so I pull myself back to my seat. She parks on the bottom level of the parking deck about sixty feet from an entrance in a slot that ends with a pillar. She lights a cigarette & pulls me against her. I would love to be her mannequin. To be soul-less & thought-less & just exist to be molded & posed & to be pleasing to her. I'm scared though that won't be enough since she isn't an idiot. She puts her cigarette out in the ashtray & pushes me upright. "Okay, let's go," & her door's open & she's already out of the car walking towards the doors of the mall.
    "Do I need to lock the door?"
    "Yeah, why wouldn't you?"
    "I don't know... do you have your keys?"
    "Yes."
    I'm following her as if I'm a dog & I keep feeling waves of anger because either she has so much power over me or I have so much strychnine in my system. Inside of the mall everything seems surreal & fake. The floor is gray & black & looks like polished granite, but is probably just some sort of tile. I'm trying to find a pattern in it so I can be sure it's fake & she's pulling me by the right hand with her left. I'm glad for the hand she chose because it means my psychic energy is flowing into her & she's absorbing it. I'll infect her like a plague & part of me will be in her forever. After I kill myself & have been dead for fifty years she'll be able to pass me on to her grandchildren, maybe our grandchildren. She's pulling me up the stairs as if we actually have a destination. We're walking together holding hands, but I'm hardly even noticing that she exists & I bet she doesn't even notice me either over the weird lights & store fronts. Suddenly there aren't any store fronts anymore, but wooden office doors. I never knew this part of the mall existed & it's kind of scary. We reach the end of the wall & there's an elevator on the left & she lets me go so she can push the button. She's playing with her scarf & I'm staring & I wish I was talented with words.
    The doors open & we go inside. "Love in an elevator," she says barely loud enough for me to hear & I'm not sure if I was supposed to.
    "What?"
    "'Love in an Elevator,' it's a song by Aerosmith. Haven't you heard it before?"
    "No, I don't really know their stuff, just the big hits." I'm relieved she doesn't want to have sex right here right now; I don't think I could handle it in the state I'm in & would vomit from motion sickness. I close my eyes & touch them with my left thumb & index finger & my eyes are moving so fast inside that it scares me not to mention the visuals I'm seeing of what some people might call monsters. When I open them everything is moving in stutters like there are strobelights & she has an aura, purple & pinkish, extending less than an inch from her skin.
    The doors open & we walk out & there's a giant orange & blue arrow pointing to the left that a lot of people have written on with ball-point pens. We follow the arrow & go to sit in the safety of a five foot wide stairwell. I'm sitting where the stairs bend staring straight ahead at the occassional people who walk by & she's in a sitting position, but lying on her side with her head on my lap. The grown-ups who walk by don't really look at us, but I can hear them either thinking or muttering, "Fucking hippies" & "Damn no account kids." Some of the women pull their purses closer as they walk by. Some children walk by & stare at us as their mothers drag them behind them. I say, "It's like we're ghosts or something & most people can't see us, but kids can because they haven't been corrupted yet."
    "Maybe we are invisible, that wouldn't be so bad."
    "Maybe it's just we aren't part of their world & kids don't have their own yet so they have to share everybody's." I'm leaning forward so I can slip off my trench coat. I guess my motion makes my lap less comfortable because she sits up & takes off her jacket & sweater to reveal a long sleeve purple & white tie dye shirt with stars on it.
    "Yeah." She sits up with her entire right side leaning against my left. "& maybe in ten years we'll be an important part of who one of those kids wants to be."
    "I don't think I like clothes. It's like you're trying to trick people into thinking you have really cool skin." My eyes are throbbing so I close them.
    "No it's not. It's just that you want to keep warm & you want to keep some people from hurting you."
    "I'm having this vision where my skin falls off so I put it back on. But I put it on inside out & it's black with pure white stars & pinstripes. Then I point at my one hand & go, 'Look, man, I'm fucked up.'"
    "I guess that would be kind of weird & you'd have a right to say that," she keeps talking & I can tell she's smiling by how her voice is distorted. "Would it be okay if I chewed on your neck?"
    "Huh?"
    "It's just chewing, a gentle tugging on the flesh. Not to kill you, just you know.... Some people don't like it, like they think I'm going to kill them or something. So would it be okay?"
    "Yeah, sure, whatever you'd like to do." She's in this weird posture as if she's worshipping me, her mouth barely able to reach my neck. My head drifts toward the right to help accommodate her & she brushes my hair behind my ear so it won't get in her mouth. She leans in & bites me & I can feel the warmth of her mouth more than her teeth or lips. Suddenly I'm looking down on the scene from ten feet above my body. Her whole body is moving rhythmically, her head moving the most. Pulling back & forth never quite letting go of the skin in her mouth. Her eyes are closed & she looks like she's wearing purple eye shadow. I hate make-up. It makes people look like they're obsessed with sex & physical beauty & it tastes funny. I hate beautiful people, probably just because of jealousy. I have the facial features of a neanderthal, so I have to depend on people who don't care about aesthetics to spend time with me. Unfortunately, I also seem to find these people dull, unintelligent, & hard to look at.
    She pulls off of my neck & I'm sucked back into my body through the wet cooling spot where she was. I'm scowling down towards her because I didn't get a chance to explore when I was out of my body. Her head's turned down as if she's exhausted herself. When she turns up to my glare it makes me feel like a giant, like a big stupid M-A-N.
    "Didn't you like it?"
    "Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I?" My tone seems caustic. I'm trying to become my normal gentle self again; my face goes completely expressionless.
    "You just looked really mad when I looked up."
    "Maybe I'm upset you didn't take my life or soul away." I'm not good with words & I offer them too quickly. She stares back blankly & I don't think either of us knows for sure if I really said it. Her face is pale & its motions seem clicky because of my influences for a moment.
    "So what do you think about sex?"
    "It's really important to me.... I don't think it should be as common or as casual as it is. If you're not willing to pay for all the possible risks alongside the person, you probably shouldn't do it. I'm really against abortion, at least of my children. I don't think it's fair somebody else can decide if my child will get to be born."
    "I'm pro-choice, but I think if it was me I'd pretty definitely have it. But some people, I guess having a baby would destroy their life."
    "Then they shouldn't have sex. That's karma."
    "Yeah, but sometimes things change from when you have sex to when you find out you're pregnant. & it is part of the woman's body for nine months."
    "I read this story called 'R.A.B.' where doctors decided that children didn't become individual entities until they were nine years old, so up to that the parents could have a retro-active-abortion. It kind of casts a light on deciding where life begins & puts it at the very beginning. I don't know. I just think sex is way too casual." I just realized she probably wanted to have sex with me & didn't want some big long philosophical answer & I do want to have sex with her just to further infect her with my plague so she'll be more attached to me. "Wow, there's something I wanna try, can you turn around?"
    "Sure." She turns her back to me & is sitting indian style, her head hanging forward. I take my right hand & run it slowly down her back a half inch away from it.
    "Can you feel that?"
    "Yeah, what are you doing?"
    "Really?"
    "Uh-huh."
    "I'm not even touching you. Wow, I didn't think that would work."
   "Let me try." We both turn around. As hard as I try I can't feel anything. I get the chills & shiver. "Wow."
    "That was cool," I don't have the heart to tell her it was more likely the acid than her. I turn & lean back against the wall & bang my head against it & close my eyes. I'm seeing myself with black starry skin again.  I'm lost in it. I'm swirling somewhere inside myself & I feel like I'm becoming two dimensional or maybe one dimensional & my hair is filling with blood & all the crushed bits of the rest of my body as I turn into a line.
    She touches me on the back of the neck & it feels like she's magically parting my skin & shoving her fingers inside me. I'd really like to kiss her right now, or tell her that I'd like to kiss her, but I still hurt from the last time I kissed a girl. I must be coming off to her like I'm a real jerk or immature or prude or something else. I'm staring in her eyes & she's staring in mine, but I can't even see her anymore. All I see is the blackness in her huge pupils & I want to know how dark her soul is. I want to know how similar she really is to me.
    "Have you ever left your body?"
    "Huh?" She's confused.
    "Left your body. You know, that astral travel crap. Not just like you're stuck a few inches out of phase with your body, everybody gets that; but like you're really out of it & then do stuff."
    "No, not that I know of. Maybe when I'm asleep...."
    "One time I was stuck out & I was busy trying to get back in my body instead of goofing off."
    I'm not facing her & when I look over she's staring at me with her mouth open a little with this look as if I just told her I got out of an institution recently after being put there for biting my last girlfriend's finger off. Her mouth closes & she gives a little smile & says "Let's go see if there's anything to see." She stands up & pulls her gear back on & helps me up.
    "I'm not sure if I can walk."
    "Why not?"
    "My legs are asleep." I'm not even sure if they really are, I just don't want to get myself in trouble because I'm messed up & I might do something dumb like put something in my pocket that isn't mine. My feet are kind of tingly & numb & I need her help to get down the stairs, which hurts & makes me clench my teeth together which feels really intriguing. We gather up our crap & put it back on.
    We're walking down the hallway holding hands & she's swinging my arm a little too much & it kind of hurts, but it keeps me from fading out of the material world. All the shops seem totally disinteresting. Typical clothing & jewelry & knick knacks now available for people in their thirties with too much money that they should just give to somebody who needs it, somebody like me.
    We go into this one store, I'm not sure what you'd call it. They have paper products & some art supplies & books & cards & ceramic things like people's mothers & grandmothers collect. The store is losing my interest much faster than it gained it when I see this book. The cover has this weird hand image with a hole cut in the palm so you can see another picture underneath. It's The Cipher by Kathe Koja. I try to read some of it somewhere in the middle & it doesn't make any sense to me really, but it's definitely of interest to me & I'm afraid I might steal it, so I put it back.
    "Did you ever read these?" She's looking at some V.C. Andrews books with her left hand to her mouth chewing on her sweater sleeve. I step over & bump my right shoulder into her left.
    "No, not really." I want to tell her that I'm not exactly what she thinks. I haven't grown up always being me. I metamorphosized away from being a completely mainstream college track suburban kid three years ago & have only been the distorted person she thinks she knows for about six months. It's just too much trouble & too embarrassing to say.
    "Oh wow, this is a new one." She picks one up & starts reading the back.
    "You know she's dead & she really only wrote like four of those books? The rest are just based on plot ideas & unfinished stuff & stuff."
    "Really? That's weird... I dunno...." She sets the book down & grabs my left hand & we leave the store.
    The tile is really fascinating me again. I wish I was in it. It seems so much prettier than here. No neon orange & blue ugly colors, just pretty shiny black & gray. We walk down the handicap ramp instead of the stairs & I'm really glad because I have this tendency to kind of fall down stairs instead of walking down them when I'm on acid. I turn to her & she looks really pretty, like an angel sent to kidnap me for god.
    "What's it like to need glasses?" She's not wearing them now, but I've seen her with them before.
    "I don't know... I guess it's kind of like the way you see things when you're dosed."
    "Wow, really? That must be great."
    "No. No, it's like things are just kinda fuzzy &...." I stop paying attention to what she's saying because I'm enamored by how shiny the fingernails on my right hand are & I'm trying to angle them to see my own reflection. "....it's not that all great."
    "Oh." She pulls me to the left into a hallway of shops & leads me into this trendy store called "Rock Art" that I've heard people talk about at school, but never been in before.
    "Hi, how's it going tonight?" The clerk looks about 22 & has black hair & one of those bad skater bowl haircuts. He's wearing this red shirt that looks like it came from Pizza Hut & a black nylon cord necklace with three cylinder fimo beads on it.
    "Okay," Stephanie says quietly & I'm not sure if she's talking to me or him or herself. I feel like I'm a macho man for a second because I'm with a girl right now & the guy behind the counter probably wants to be, but he's not & I'm not letting go of her. I look around the store & they have t-shirts & sunglasses & beads & posters. I'm not sure what I'm looking at when I feel this shock/quake/quiver that starts in my eyes & spreads through my head & then through the rest of me & I close my eyes & enjoy it, even though it's hard to stand.
    "Look at this," she says pulling at the elbow of my coat sleeve, shaking it, making me feel like jelly & I open my eyes.
    The poster display is turned to this image of skeletons on a black background. There's a pile of skeletons with the grim reaper standing on top of them holding his scythe over his head with one hand in triumph. The reaper is glowing like he's holy. "Wow," it's a whisper or maybe not even out loud.
    "See, this is what death is supposed to be like, glorious & happy & proud & beautiful. It doesn't have to be all blood & hate & violence." Her voice sounds like she's trying to seduce me & she comes closer to me & brushes my hair away so she can whisper in my ear. "Death can be great. Death can be beautiful."
    "I'm staring at our reflection in the plexi-glass & I want to believe what she's saying; I want to believe everything she ever says to me. She's still whispering, but I can't hear her. I'm staring at the grim reaper's skull (he has his hood off) & at my right eye in the same place in the reflection. I don't want death to be pretty. If I still exist, I'm afraid of what will happen to me. I'm not ready to die. I can't really see anymore, but I can tell I'm crying.
    She dries my left eye with her scarf. "We better go." She takes my right hand & we leave the store. I can't even remember why I was crying, but I'm rubbing the tears into my rubbery skin. My jaw's spasming & my fingers are trembling & my mind's all fidgety.
    "Are you okay?"
    "Um... yeah, I'm fine." She starts swinging our arms a lot as we walk, almost to shoulder level with each step. I start smiling & she starts smiling back & I notice we're in the main part of the mall again. She looks beautiful like a doll from a stop-motion world. I want to give her my heart & soul & mind & body to take care of. I think she loves me more than I love myself. I don't love myself. I am nothing I want to be. I am ashamed of my mind & body & soul. Maybe my heart's okay; I don't know, I don't use it much. I'm afraid of it. I think it could destroy me completely, just like my mind hurt my soul.
    We're in Waldenbooks now. The carpet is this gray color with black flecks. We're in the occult/new age section; it's where we belong. The clerks ignore us. She's looking through an astrology book sitting indian style on the floor & I'm staring at her knees. I sit down next to her & I stare at the wall pretending I'm reading the books' titles; but I can't read, the words are too watery.
    "When's your birthday?"
    "April thirtieth."
    She flips through the book a second. "Taurus, a Taurus cat." I'm not sure if "cat" is lingo or chinese astrology or something I just don't know about. She's reading out loud, but I can't hear her because I'm busy playing with something in my pocket.
    She's standing & pulling me up & I'm not sure how much time has passed. We're leaving the store back to our stairway home & I'm not even sure if I've walked the whole way & I'm leaning on the wall with the arrow on it & realize I'm holding her right hand with my left. I let her hand go & go off spinning against the wall as it turns & then I'm sitting in our spot on the stairs. She's infected me now & it's as if I can't function anymore. My eyes are closed & I'm dead, waiting for her to bring me back to life.
    I feel her drape her right arm across me & she shakes me slightly. I turn to her & open my eyes smiling & then close my eyes again. She's taken off her gear & is wearing her spacey tie-dye shirt & I want to dive inside it or maybe into the flesh on the other side, they're inseparable to me right now. She's so scrawny & beautiful & I want to tell her, but for some reason I'm overwhelmed by the idea that maybe we're just friends to her. After all, even though I'm thin (thinner than her in fact, I'm five foot four inches & eighty-five pounds), I have a face that has open sores on it from where I pinch off all small pieces of skin when I'm intoxicated. I look like a zombie, or someone who will be a zombie, & maybe having sex with someone on the verge of death & bringing them back to life isn't as big of a turn on to her as it is to me. She's talking & I'm too busy trying to think straight to make out anything besides tone & rhythm. "I'm going to go outside for a minute." She gets up & walks down the hall to the secret exit it leads to & I'm scared that she's left me & trying to figure out if I should walk home or call home or just go outside & wait through the night & hopefully freeze to death through the night instead of having to survive the humiliation of her telling all her friends how hysterical it was that I was falling in love with her. She comes back & she's carrying this rock the size of a football or a baby. She sets it down & sits next to me again & the rock is purple & shiny. It looks like it's covered with white shimmery spider webs & the pattern seems full of these flirting images that are never quite right or real & disappear before I can make them out.
    "Why's it like that?"
    "I don't know. I just went out there & there it was staring up at me."
    I'm taking my coat off again & I find our pack of Juicy Fruit in the pocket & I pull it out & take my jacket off. I pull one stick out & hand her the pack which only has one stick left.
    "Thanks."
    "You're welcome." I wonder what's going on with her. "Look," I say pointing at the paper wrapper, "'save foil to put gum in after use.' You know, why else would you save it? If you were on a boat & it sank you could use the foil & the reflection of the sun to get rescued?" That was from some sitcom from when I was eight & it struck me as really cool then, but now I wish I'd forgotten it so I couldn't have said it just now. In a flash I'm remembering an episode of Night Court where Dan was a male escort or something & the woman who hired him had had a really wealthy husband & was showing him her engagement ring, which was made from aluminum foil. Her husband could have bought her any ring with any diamond, but he thought it would be more interesting & valuable to invest his time & ingenuity into making a ring. So I start making a ring for Stephanie & I can't figure out how to make it so it will stay together, but I give it to her anyway.
    "Do you know what a ring means?"
    She's staring straight in my eyes & I shake my head no & it feels kind of cool, but I remember this might be kind of serious, so I stop doing it shortly after when I should've.
    She made me a ring too (I guess when I was enthralled making hers, so I didn't notice it) & she slips it on my finger. "It doesn't end, it's a symbol of forever. Of things going on & on through death & rebirth."
    I think I'm too fucked up for her to be telling me this right now. It all seems too profound & true, like everything in the world is unavoidable & I'm thinking about how maybe if I had a child I'd be immortal. I really want to have two kids & I don't want them to be blind. She's lying down on my lap & she says, "There's something uncomfortable in your pocket."
    I stand up & throw my wallet out to her.
    "What's this supposed to mean? Throwing money at me?"
    "I don't know," but I do. I don't feel like I have much to offer her & maybe I can bribe her by giving her anything & everything valuable that I have. Me & everything associated with me is valueless compared to her.
    I'm sitting down again & she's lying on my lap looking up at me & I'm trying to stare straight ahead with my eyes closed, but images from the periphery keep distracting me.
    "I didn't know you had your ear pierced."
    "Oh... yeah... I did it about two years ago." I'm fiddling with the hook through my ear.
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